


Taken

by LadyoftheWoods



Series: Sanders' Sirens [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Blood, Blood and Torture, Captivity, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Drowning, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Morality | Patton Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Deceit, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Major Illness, Morality | Patton Sanders Angst, Panic Attacks, Protective Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Protective Logic | Logan Sanders, Siren Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Siren Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Slavery, Suicidal Thoughts, Sympathetic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Sympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Sympathetic Logic | Logan Sanders, Sympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders, Torture, implied nonconsensual kissing, past anxciet, royality, siren logan sanders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24850504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: Patton was taken as a trophy by a crew of pirates. when the ship is attacked by sirens, the most he hopes for is a merciful death. Instead, he is rescued by one.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: Sanders' Sirens [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804339
Comments: 55
Kudos: 239





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just posting a bunch of chapters of this all at once, since I've pretty much binge written it over the past two days. Be sure to check the tags, this one gets pretty dark.

He’s tired. He’s so tired. 

He tries to keep smiling. Tries to be encouraging. Tries to do as he’s told, and satisfy the pirates who’ve taken him, and a few of his fellow crew members as slaves, but it’s never enough. 

They kick him. They punch him. They pull his hair and run blades across his neck just deep enough to draw blood. They twist his arm behind his back, until he’s sure it’s about to snap, then tie him in that position for hours. They hang him from his wrists off the bow, over the weathered mermaid, because he’s such a pretty boy, surely he’ll bring them luck. 

That’s why they kept him. His pretty face. His big, baby blue eyes. His softly freckled face. His curly blond hair. His slim waist and slightly rounded cheeks, giving him a young, boyish look. 

They enjoy that. Enjoy tracing patterns across his freckles with their knives. Enjoy grabbing his wrists and forcing kisses against his cheeks. They enjoy leering and staring and grabbing and pulling.

But he smiles, though he hates his face, now. He laughs, though he’s breaking. He plays along, though every night shame and disgust curdle in his chest, ripping at his lungs, clawing apart his heart. 

He’s hollow. His eyes don’t shine, anymore, sunken into his skull. His ribs show through his shirt. His body is scarred and bruised and scabbed. His hope, his life, his soul, is fading away exponentially faster every day. It makes the pirates bolder, as he lets them get away with more and more, as hours, days pass without him realizing, lost in a fog of exhaustion and apathy. His former crew members, those that are left, worry, try and get him to talk, try and give him their rations, try and get him to eat something, anything, but he just smiles, pushing it away. 

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. But it’s still there. His last act of defiance. No matter what they do to him, no matter how bad it gets, he smiles, because it infuriates them, and that is the only thing he has the power to do, anymore.   
…  
He’s on deck, when it happens.

His ankles are tied together. So are his wrists. He’s tied to the mast, arms stretched above him, feet barely touching the ground, rope around his neck, so he has to stand on tiptoe to be able to breathe. 

He’s exhausted. He’s sunburned, skin red and hot, blisters forming across his back, sticking to the fabric of his shirt. He hasn’t eaten in days, and his throat is dry, mouth parched. His eyes are closed, breathing ragged, heart beating wildly and irregularly. His hair is matted to his head, and he can’t even sweat anymore, doesn’t even have that small relief of coolness against his skin. Colors are dancing behind his eyes, and he struggles to stay awake, because every time his legs give out the noose tightens, and despite himself, his body is fighting to live. 

“Feeling comfortable, pretty boy?” He forces open his eyes at the gruff, growling, taunting voice of the pirates’ foul excuse for a captain. It takes a moment, for his mind to comprehend what was said, to remember how to speak, to force his tongue into action. 

“Yes, captain.” He rasps, not breaking his gaze from the pirate’s eyes, forcing his mouth into a small, smug, upturn, despite everything in him screaming to cower and submit and give in, he won’t. He won’t let them break him completely. He won’t give that to them, give himself, to them. The captain’s eyes narrow, and he scowls. 

Faster than he can understand, the captain draws his dagger, and plunges it into his shoulder. His vision goes red, and he hears a distant scream, tastes blood on his lips as he bites his tongue, feeling the dagger piercing through his muscle, pinning him to the mast. He realizes he’s the one screaming, as the captain laughs, twisting the knife deeper in the wound, his head spinning, body sagging, unable to care about the rope biting into his throat, cutting off his air, whimpering as he feels the tension leave his arms, his neck, falling forwards so all the weight is on the dagger, ripping it further across his shoulder as it is the only thing keeping him upright. Then a hand is around his throat, and he is slammed back against the mast, hard enough he feels blood trickling down the back of his skull. 

“How about now, my lovely?” He shudders at the perverse stroke of his cheek, the softness underlined by his cruelty. He spits, a glob of blood, pleased as he hears the captain splutter, cracking open his eyes, a grin on his face as he sees the captain wiping his spit off his face. 

“Perfectly content, sir.” The captain roars in fury, drawing his sword, growling as he raises his arm, and he closes his eyes. 

This is it. Finally, this is where it all ends. He lets out a soft breath, a softer smile on his lips, because he can live (ha) with this. Tears prick his eyes as he feels the wind from the sword, the silence like a crash of thunder in his ears.

Then- 

Then the music. 

The captain falters. Instead of coming down across his neck, the sword slashes across his chest, biting deep, and he gasps at the pain, hands futily flying to the wound, trying to catch the blood, trying to press it back into his body, but it simply burbles around his hands. 

He hears the sword drop to the deck as the music grows louder. As it swells. 

It’s beautiful. 

Summer days in the fields of his childhood, laughing as he chases the chickens, his mother scooping him up and scolding him, tickling his belly until he devolves into giggles. 

The soft ocean breeze on a clear day, the sparkling water stretching out until it met the endless horizon, the orange and pink and glowing sun reflected perfectly, a blazing beauty sinking until the moon slowly replaces it. 

Safety. His crew around him. His captain at the helm, standing beside his son, pointing out the constellations they use to navigate. Jeremy singing from the crow’s nest, his sweet voice carrying across the entire ship. Llewyn with his stories, capturing them all in his tales, enthralled. Marvin whistling as he swabs the deck, humming as he prepares dinner, laughing at every one of his terrible jokes. 

He opens his eyes at the sound of splashing, vision blurred and sense of reality hazy, lungs heavy and chest tight. Dimly, he realizes the pirates are wide eyed, looks of pure extasy on their faces as they approach the edge of the ship. He watches as the singing grows louder, sweeter, more voices joining in harmony, and one of them lets out a call of awe, leaping over the side. Then all the others follow. It’s like moths to a flame, and he closes his eyes, hearing each splash, the hauntingly sweet music sweeping him up once more, tears leaking from his eyes, and he wishes he could make it to the side. He doesn’t need the music to coax him overboard. He’s going to die from his injuries. He’s already slipping away. But being dragged down by Sirens, being sung to as he drowned, being held in their gentle embrace even as they pulled the air out of his lungs, would be better than this slow death. He would die for that gentle touch alone. No matter how much of a lie it was, at least it was something. 

He chokes out a wheezing sob as the music starts to fade, the lilting voices start to drift off, choking on despair and his own blood. 

“Please! Please don’t go!” He manages to shout, scraping at his throat. “please…” he whispers, as the voices go completely silent. He yelps as he falls to the deck, the dagger having come free from its mooring at all of his weight being put on it, though it’s still embedded in his flesh. 

He gasps at the force of the impact, vision swimming, curling up against his knees, shivers and gasping sobs wracking his body. He is going to die alone. Afraid and hurt and alone. 

He hears footsteps. He hears a whispered word, a language he doesn’t know, but he can guess it’s a curse from the intonation. He blearily blinks open his eyes, breath catching at the vision before him. 

A man, strong and toned, clothed in thin, flowing red fabric, a crimson circlet around his forehead, red tattoos coiling up his arms, his face perfect, his eyes deep and endless, and he smiles, closing his eyes. 

“go ahead. I’m ready.” His voice is a wet whisper, red staining his lips as he coughs, curling tighter. He hears the man inhale sharply, gasping as he feels a gentle touch, a soft hand cupping his cheek, and he leans into the touch, more tears leaking out, because this is nothing like the pirate’s crude possessiveness. This is soft, and kind, and gentle. “please.” He looks up once more, though most of his vision is dark spots, everything swirling and fading in and out, and he smiles. 

Smiles like he used to. Like he did before everything went wrong. Like he did before his life ended. Like he did before this living hell. A soft, warm smile, that brought out his dimples, that lit up his face, that crinkled his eyes and somehow made his cheeks ruddy, his freckles show, the kind the crew always said made him look like a master’s carving of a cherub. It feels nice, to smile. To smile and mean it. He’s glad he’s going to do die like this. 

“you don’t know what you’re asking.” The voice is soft, but honey sweet and beautiful, a music to it even now. Oh, he’s glad this is the one that will be dragging him down. 

“you’re a S-siren. You’ll d-drown m-me. B-ut it’s ok. You s-ing so ni-ce. Feels like h-ome. That’s where I’m go-ing anyway. H-home. I’m r-ready, to go w-ith you.” He mumbles, vision going dark, and he can’t tell if his eyes are still open or closed, not that it really matters. It’s over. There’s sweet relief in that simple fact. It’s over. 

Distantly, he hears the siren mutter another curse. He feels the rope cut from around his neck, his ankles and hands cut loose, numb from loss of circulation. He whimpers, as he feels himself lifted, jostling his body, every small motion piercing agony through his bones, but he settles at a soft hand pushing back his hair, a murmured, musical assurance that sets his mind at ease, that sets him drifting off into oblivion. 

It’s warm, cradled against the siren’s chest, careful arms holding him gently, that sonorous voice murmuring promises of safety. He lets out a soft sigh, folding closer to the warmth, his own body so cold, now. He’s glad, this will be his last memory. Not the pirate captain, not his misery, not his pain, but this. 

This is nice.  
…

Roman is speechless. 

Not much can make him speechless. 

But this human has. 

He’s such a small thing, so light, far lighter than he should be. He can see the gauntness to the human’s face, can tell where there once was cushion around his cheekbones, around his ribs, and there’s so much blood. His heart is hammering like a hummingbird. 

“Roman. What are you waiting for?” He looks up at Logan’s stern voice, though he tilts his head and softens at the distress on Roman’s face. “What is it?” 

“He knows what I am, Lo. And he wasn’t afraid. He said… he said he was ready to go home.” Logan takes a deep breath, coming closer, eyes widening at the state of the human, feeling his own heart breaking at the cruelty with which this person was treated. He lets out another breath as he hesitantly reaches out, brushing back his soft hair, feeling the burning heat of his forehead with a frown, surprised as the human easily leans into his touch. One would think, after all the abuse he’d clearly suffered, he would flinch from it.

He can feel the goodness of the human. The strong, protective instinct within him, his soft, gentle nature, his kindness. He knows Roman won’t leave the human here to die, and won’t drown him, either. Logan knows he can’t, as well. 

“He may not make it, Roman. And Virgil will not like it.” Logan warns, the third member of their party already having departed, “that being said, the sooner we get back, the sooner we can tend to his injuries.” Roman nods, looking up at him with relief in his eyes. 

“thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me yet. You still have to convince Virgil.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton has a flashback, and Roman comforts him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst for days.

“Absolutely not.” 

“But-“ 

“Roman, I said no! It’s too dangerous. It’s dangerous enough you brought him here, now you want to keep him!?” 

He hears the conversation distantly, not really comprehending the words. Everything feels numb. He feels ten degrees removed from his body, like he’s hovering somewhere above it. His chest hurts, he thinks, and it’s hard to breath. He’s cold, he’s shaking with the cold, it’s burrowed into his bones, and a pained sigh slips past his lips. 

He cracks open his eyes. There’s someone standing above him, and he flinches, waiting for the blow, for the strike, for the pain, and he can’t breathe, curling tighter, but that pulls at something, and he whimpers, overtaken by trembling shakes. 

Someone is speaking, but he can’t hear them over the rasp of his own breath, so loud in his ears, heart pounding hollowly in his chest, so close to simply giving out and he can’t breathe- 

“Breathe, darling. You need to breathe. In and out, nice and slow.” He feels someone take his hand, gently pressing it to their chest, and he can feel the steady inhale and exhale, another hand softly brushing through his hair. 

“S-siren?” He whispers, surely this is a fever dream. He’s still tied to the mast, back on the ship, the pirate’s taunting him. He’s delusional and dying and afraid. 

“I’m here. You’re safe, darling.” The siren murmurs, and he lets his eyes slip closed, weakly squeezing the siren’s hand, unable to summon more words, sinking down into darkness.   
…  
Roman inhales sharply as the human goes limp, sitting on the edge of the bed, still holding the human’s hand to his chest. He was so pale, his breathing so shallow and quick, and his heart breaks as the human shifts, unconsciously leaning towards him, reaching for him. 

He doesn’t hesitate, careful of the human’s myriad wounds as he scoops him back into his arms, gently cradling him in his lap, wrapping a blanket around him, the human letting out a soft breath and nuzzling closer into his chest, desperate for warmth, melting at the slightest gentle touch, and he is speechless and baffled yet again, because this human trusts him. 

“We’re keeping him.” He states firmly, blinking away wetness, staring up at Virgil, Logan standing aside. “What else would you have me do, Virgil? Drown him?” He spits, and Virgil flinches back. 

“Roman-“ 

“Bleeding out and weak and hurt and tortured? Was I supposed to drown him then? Or was I supposed to leave him tied up on the ship, to waste away? Or should I have dumped him on a dock, foolishly hoping some other human would take pity on him, when clearly, he’s been suffering for months and no one has?” 

“Roman. We have rules.” He scoffs, glaring, Virgil taking a step back at the anger in his gaze. 

“Yes. And he’s not a pirate. He’s not some greedy, loathsome vandal, not some cruel, abusive captain. Those are the people we hurt, the people we drown. He is none of those things. He is innocent. He gave me permission to sing to him, to drown him, knowing what I am. Said my voice sounded like home. That he was going home. So, tell me, is he not one of the ones we have sworn not to harm? If you feel otherwise, go ahead. You have the floor. Sing.” His voice is biting, stinging, hard as stone and cold as ice, challenging, daring him to open his mouth. 

A tense moment passes, then Virgil hisses out a breath, turning and storming out the door, a frustrated scream echoing across the island as soon as he’s out of sight. He lets out a low breath, sinking back against the wall. 

“That was harsh.” 

“Good. It was supposed to be.” He replies tiredly, smiling at Logan’s soft, exasperated laugh. 

“I’ll go after him. Make sure he doesn’t work himself up too much. Call if you need any help, or if his condition worsens. And Roman? At least be a little careful.” Logan adds, pausing in the doorway. Roman nods, meeting Logan’s eyes. 

“I’m not entirely an idiot, Lo, and you can quote me on that.” Logan rolls his eyes, slipping out the door, leaving Roman alone with the human.   
…   
It’s night. A shout from the crow’s nest and clamoring from the deck awakens him, and he rolls out of his hammock, heart already hammering at the pounding of feet above him. He throws on his glasses, pulls on his shoes, and races up top, with the two other off duty crew, gasping as he reaches deck. 

Fighting. The ship is swarmed with pirates, fighting, subduing, killing, the crew, his friends, his family. Without second thought, he races into the fray, tackling a man about to strike the captain from behind, pinning him for a moment before the much larger man kicks him off, sends him rolling across the deck. 

They are outnumbered, badly outnumbered, and the captain surrenders in minutes, with the promise the pirates will take what they want, but leave the crew alive and the ship intact, to make its way to shore. 

The pirate walks slowly past each of the crew, now tied with wrists behind their backs, swords against their backs daring them to step out of line, and he shakes with fear and fury as the pirate stops before him. 

“Well now. Can’t leave such a pretty gem behind.” He flinched at the touch of his cheek, biting his lip against the yelp as he stumbled back against the sword pressed behind him, glaring up at the pirate. 

“Take him along, boys. Load up the hold!” His eyes widen, and his ears rush with the sound of his blood as he’s shoved forwards, too numb to do anything, panic racing through him as he locks eyes with his captain, before the man looks away, shame on his face as he does nothing, as a few more of the crew are singled out and shoved across the boarding plank onto the pirate’s ship. 

The despair doesn’t sink in until they push off, heading back out to sea, and the pirate gives the order. He screams, then, lunges at him, held back by the ropes binding him, or he would claw this man to shreds where he stands, the boom of the cannons deafening him, exploding outwards in slow motion as they collide with the ship, as he sees figures lurching to keep their balance, as he sees his friends struggling to keep her afloat. Then the pirates launch the fire bombs, and she goes up in flames. 

He falls to his knees, tears streaming down his face, the distant screams ringing in his head, even now, he can picture the captain barking out orders, can picture the others pulling the injured away from the flames, can see the ship listing, burning and sinking and breaking. 

“You promised. You promised you’d let them go!” He screams at the pirate captain, who’s leering down at him, a twisted and satisfied grin on his face, eyes alight with the reflection of fire. 

“Oh, pretty boy. I lied.”   
…   
He’s burning. He can feel the flames licking around him, can feel them climbing him, and he knows he’s burning. He tries to scream, tries to claw and fight his way out, away from the fire, away from the heat, away from the scorching pain eating into his flesh, but there’s nowhere to go. He’s weak, but he thrashes anyway, desperate, and there are hands on his wrists, holding him down. 

He does scream now, forces his voice to work, forces all his rage and pain and agony into it, because the pirate captain has taken everything he has, but he will die before he gives him this, die before he lets the captain take him in this way. 

He shudders, then kicks, hearing a solid noise and an ‘oof’ as he connects with something, and the hands vanish. Quickly, he rolls, gasping as he falls a short distance, onto a floor. His chest burns and aches, the scabs on his back rip, his head pounds, but he claws his way into a corner, breathing fast and rapid as he struggles to clear his vision, to get a sense of his surroundings, to understand where the captain has taken him.

He hears footsteps and curls tighter, frantic, panicking and delirious and afraid. 

“Stop! Please… please, I’ll do anything else, don’t… don’t do this, don’t make me, I won’t…” His breath is heaving in and out, too fast, his mind swirling and nebulous as panic embraces him, coiling around his lungs and squeezing all the air out. 

All he can see is the flames of his ship. 

All he can see is the pirate’s leering face. 

All he can feel are rough hands against his face, gripping his wrists, biting into the weeping sores from the chains, sour breath and greasy hair, and he chokes on the air as it burns into his lungs. 

Anything, anything but this. 

“Roman!” He jumps at the loud noise, it’s a shock to his system, and he whimpers, curling tighter over himself, hands pressed against his ears to block out the noise, there’s so much noise. 

The crackling roar of the fire. The boom of the cannons. The cheers and laughs of the pirates. The clanking of chains, chafing his skin down to the bone, the cat calls and wolf whistles that follow him on the ship. The eyes always on him, appraising, the fear, fear, fear, eating him alive piece by piece. 

It’s too much, and too hot, and he can’t breathe, and he can’t see, and he can feel footsteps across the floor, though they stop far enough from him that they won’t be able to reach him, and he chokes on his breath, on his sobs, on the loss of the numbness that kept him from feeling, he’s always felt so much, so strongly, and it’s literally killing him, now. 

Slowly, something starts to break through the flashes of memories, the flashes of panic, the flashes of loathing. It’s soft, hard to make out, and it forces him to listen, forces him to slowly, one by one, focus on turning off the images replaying in his mind. He slowly becomes aware of warm wood, beneath his feet. Soft clothes against his skin. Bandages covering most of his arms and torso. 

He’s confused. The only clothes he has are the ones he was taken with, and those are practically rags by now, stained and filthy and torn to nearly shreds. And the captain was going to kill him, why bandage him? Why wasn’t the wood rocking? Why…

Singing. Soft and soothing and gentle, like a lullaby. It doesn’t entrance him, doesn’t ensnare him, it simply is, filling the air slowly with softness and warmth, and he follows the melody, letting it draw him up and back to awareness, finally remembering. The siren. 

He cracks open his eyes. Bright daylight is shining into the small, cozy, one room house, made of some kind of clay brick, if he had to guess. The windows have no glass, and the doorway is simply covered by a piece of cloth drapery, waving slightly in the warm breeze. The floor is well worn wood, a bed sits against the far corner of the room, and across from him, kneeling on the floor, eyes warm as he hums, is the siren. He closes his eyes, shaking his head, pressing the heels of his palms against them. 

“I’m dead.” He breathes out, a strange, easing relief washing through him, and he laughs, a bright, tremulous sound. “I’ve died. It’s nice here, at least. Warm. I w-was never warm, on th-eir boat.” He gasps out a sob, doubling over at its force, arms wrapping tight around his stomach, half laughing hysterically, half sobbing, because he shouldn’t be this happy to be dead, but he is. It’s a mercy. The first act of mercy shown him in one year, three months, and two days. “thank you.” He whispers, and he hears the siren make a sound, something soft, feels him come closer, but he doesn’t flinch away. 

Gentle hands cup his face, softly wiping away his tears, and they carefully guide his chin up. When he opens his eyes, the siren is right there, looking at him with something soft and fragile and hurt in his eyes. He sighs as the siren once again strokes his cheek, eyes fluttering shut once more as he leans into the touch, feeling his chest loosen, air flooding back into his lungs, and he can breathe again. 

“you’re not dead, paloma.” A soft kiss against his forehead has him falling forwards, chasing that warmth, and he feels those gentle hands catch him, pull him close against warmth, against safety, and he curls into it, clutching weakly at the fabric of his clothes. “no one will hurt you again. I will protect you. You’re safe, paloma mio.” He sighs, warmth cresting over him. 

“i’m sorry.” He mumbles, and the siren shushes him softly, rubbing circles against his cheek. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, darling. Everything’s all right. Go back to sleep.” 

“m’kay.” He mumbles, slipping away once more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Patton bond, lots of fluff ensues, with just a touch of angst.

Roman strokes back the human’s hair, pressing their foreheads together for a long moment, murmuring softly to him, until he’s sure the human’s dreams will be sweet, filled with his voice to lead him out of his nightmares. 

“His fever’s broke.” He says, pulling back with a deep breath, not ceasing his gentle petting of the human’s hair, catching every soft noise he makes, every touch making the human melt further against him, putty in his arms. 

“That’s… good. I’m sorry. For scaring him more. I just… I heard a scream, and it scared me.” 

“I know, Virg.” 

“And I… I’m sorry, for earlier. Reacting, how I did. To you bringing him. I know… I know it was right, I guess, but I was… afraid.” 

“I know, Virgil. It’s ok.” He catches Virgil’s eyes, making sure he sees that he means it. “I don’t blame you, for being cautious. I was scared and upset as well, in a different way.” He inhales deeply, trying to push back the tide of rage swelling within him as he looks back down at the human, his paloma, his dove. 

“I wish they were all still alive, so I could kill them all over again. So I could give them the kind of death they deserved. So I could give them a fraction of what they did to him.” His voice shakes dangerously, wavering on the edge of a note, and he clamps his mouth shut to keep it from spiraling out into the song he would sing to lure those men to their deaths. 

“I know, Ro. But he’s resilient. If he’s made it this far, he’s not going to give up now. It’s… amazing, really. He’s not afraid of you, like, at all.” 

“he literally just had a panic attack in my presence.” 

“Yeah, but he calmed down instantly when he realized it was you. He trusts you, Ro, he really does.” He lets out a deep breath, trying to steady himself, get himself back under control.

“You should take a break, Ro. You’ve been up for days.” He shakes his head.

“I can’t. I can’t leave him, what if something goes wrong? What if he panics again? I can’t-" 

“roman. I’ll stay with him. I’ll take good care of him, I promise, and you won’t be any use to him if you pass out from exhaustion. Let me help.” He hesitates, but finally sighs, nodding.

“All right. All right, just a few hours.” He shifts to his feet, gently depositing Paloma back on the bed, tucking him in. He stirs, but doesn’t wake, mumbling as he curls tighter into the blanket, brow creasing.

Before Roman can reach out to comfort him, Virgil is there, gently taking the human’s hand in his, murmuring softly, settling Paloma.

“go on, Ro. I’ve got him.” Virgil murmurs, a fond smile on his lips as he nudges Roman towards the door.

“thank you, Virgil. I know… you have your own history, with them.” Virgil shrugs, a flash of pain flicking across his face, before he looks away.

“Yeah, well, hopefully you’ve got better taste in character than me. Now stop dawdling. Shoo, already.” He laughs, vanishing out the doorway.  
…  
It’s morning when he wakes, light playing across the ground, and he groans, stretching. It’s too early to be awake. Logan would say its nearly noon, now is the optimal time to be awake, but he just wants to roll back over. 

Until he remembers. 

He curses, shooting to his feet and bolting out the door, reaching the other small house in mere seconds, skidding inside with panicked eyes, freezing as he registers laughter. 

Paloma is propped up on pillows, a soft smile on his face, the light playing across his shining curls, catching the blue of his eyes, and his breath catches because stars above and gods below, this man is beautiful. 

“Yes Roman?” Virgil asks, smirking at his discombobulation, his mind struggling to form words, to catch up, to say something. 

“he’s awake. You’re awake.” He manages, delight warming his chest as the human giggles, and he swears it’s more entrancing than any song he’s ever heard. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need anything? Have you eaten? You’ve given him food, right, and water? And-“ 

“Yes, Roman. He is fed and watered and dressed appropriately for the weather.” Virgil blinks, rubbing his face. “Dear gods, I’m turning into Logan. Anyway, I’m gonna go take a nap, now that you’re here to watch your Paloma.” Virgil smirks as he says the pet name, and Roman’s face burns as he halfheartedly glares at the sauntering siren’s back as he brushes out the door. 

“Paloma. What… what does that mean?” He blushes further at the question, toeing the ground. 

“dove. It means dove.” 

“oh. I… I think it’s sweet. My name is Patton, but you can keep calling me that, if you want. I don’t… mind.” When he looks up in surprise, he sees that Patton is now the one blushing, looking down at his lap. 

“Alright. I’m Roman. May I?” He asks, indicating the chair next to the bed, and Patton nods, still fidgeting with the blanket, occasionally glancing up at him, as if searching for the words he wants to say. 

“I… thank you. For saving me. For taking me with you. F-for being so… kind. To me. I know it must have been a lot of trouble.” His chest aches at those words, and without thinking, he shifts closer, gently guiding Patton’s head up, so their eyes meet. 

“it was no trouble at all, Paloma. You don’t deserve what those beasts did to you. I would never, in a million years, have chosen to leave you there. You are so… good, Patton. I can feel it, how even after all of that you’re still so good. The very least you deserve is kindness.” He murmurs, caught in those deep, wonderous blue eyes, deeper than any sea, more mysterious than any sky, he could spend decades, searching those eyes and never get tired of them. 

Then he gasps as Patton’s lips meet his, soft and slow and gentle, pulling away after only a brief moment, Patton’s breath hitching as he curls in on himself. 

“I’m s-sorry, I don’t know wh-what I was th-thinking, I j-just… please… please, I’m sorry.” He slowly rests a hand on Patton’s shoulder, shifting onto the bed beside him, making sure there’s enough room that he can pull away if he wants. 

“It’s ok, darling. It’s all alright.” He doesn’t say anything more for several minutes, simply rubbing Patton’s shoulder and breathing softly, letting Patton get his bearings once more. “I will never hurt you, love. I will never force something from you that you don’t wish to give. I will never even ask, if that makes you uncomfortable. Whatever you want, Patton, whatever you need. It is always your choice.” He murmurs, feeling Patton shift closer, opening his arms as the human falls into his embrace, pressed against his chest. He shushes him, rocking him, humming softly, as he feels Patton trembling against him. 

“I love you.” Patton mumbles, and it feels like his heart has stopped as Patton peeks up at him with those impossible eyes. “I barely know you, why… why do I love you?” He slowly cups Patton’s cheek, a small smile on his lips as he looks down at him. 

“I don’t know. But I feel it too. I was never complete, until I found you. It’s like you were always supposed to be here, with me. I love you, Patton, mi Paloma, my love. And I will protect you, always.” He melts as Patton surges up and meets his lips once more, deep and passionate this time, a fire to it that fills him with warmth, that sets his chest ablaze, that makes the whole world disappear except for this magnificent, amazing man, pressed against him. 

They talk, until Patton falls asleep once more, soft murmurs back and forth, tales of their lives, their childhoods, their families. 

Patton marvels over what he had thought were tattoos on Roman’s arms, actually small patterns of swirling scarlet scales, the same color as his tail. He explains that on land, they appear mostly human, and it’s only when they touch salt water that they change fully. 

Patton tells him of his family’s small farm, playing with dogs and raising the kittens, feeding the chickens every morning and helping round up all the animals at the end of the day. Even the most stubborn of mules would come when he called, and he was often enlisted by neighbors to help handle and train their animals. 

Roman tells him of all the different places he’s seen, all the islands he’s visited, the sea creatures he’s befriended, offers to introduce him to the dolphin pod when he’s strong enough to make it to the beach, smiling at the excited gleam in Patton’s eyes, his passion when he speaks of helping others, his laugh as he recounts fond memories, and the entire time, they dance around speaking of his life as a ship hand. 

He can see flickers of it, on Patton’s face, when he remembers something, a joke told to him, or a story from one of their stops on land, mentioning someone’s name before going silent, cutting himself off mid-sentence as he realizes what he was about to say, that sharp pain of loss. 

Logan checks and changes his bandages that day, and Roman lets him squeeze his hand against the dull pain, some of the blisters sticking to the wounds, and he murmurs softly to him, how brave and good he is, how strong he is, until Patton is giggling and blushing and telling him to stop being so silly, pain forgotten. He doesn’t notice Logan’s frown at the state of Patton’s wrists, worry creasing his brow.   
…  
Roman wakes to a soft sound. It takes him a moment to place it, stifled sobs, and he feels a jolt of panic as he realizes Patton isn’t in bed anymore, before he spies him sitting in the doorway, curtain parted around him. 

“paloma?” He murmurs, approaching carefully, noting how Patton’s shoulders are hunched in on himself, his head buried against his knees. 

“S-sorry, I’m s-sorry. Was trying to be q-uiet.” He frowns, sitting down beside him, careful not to touch. 

“it’s alright, darling. I’d rather be awake with you than have you alone and miserable.” Patton seems to cry harder, curling tighter. “what is it, love? What happened?” 

“n-nothing happened, n-not really, I j-just… I just woke up thinking I was late for my turn on watch. Then I realized there is no watch, because I watched the ship go down in flames, I watched the crew and captain burn, I watched them all d-die and the only r-reason I w-wasn’t with them is b-because of my st-upid, h-horrible f-face!” He caves, then, carefully gathering Patton in his arms, who doesn’t protest the movement, merely turns his head and sobs into his shirt, as he rocks him, eyes closed against his soft hair. 

“I’m sorry, love. I’m so truly, deeply sorry.” 

“Is it w-wrong to wish I was with them? W-wish I had been there, on board, instead of dragged away by the p-pirates? At l-least then I would have died with my family and not b-been… been used, like some thing, some toy!” He can feel his own silent tears falling at the break in Patton’s voice, the anger and pain that he holds so deep. 

“it’s not. I would do anything, give anything, to have spared you from that suffering. I wish I could have stopped it, even if it meant we never met, I would have stopped it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, darling.” He whispers, holding Patton tight until his tears subside, until he’s cried himself out for the night, until he’s fast asleep in his arms. 

He frowns, noticing dark lines across his skin, just barely peeking out from the bandages around his wrists, and makes a note to ask Logan about them in the morning, before picking Patton up and moving the two of them back to the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton takes a turn for the worst. Virgil reveals what may be the only way to save him, and its consequences.

Someone gently tipping up his chin, water against his lips, and he lets out a soft noise, a needy whine, eagerly swallowing, whining as the cup is drawn away after a long moment. 

“easy, darling. Too much at once will make you sick.” A voice murmurs, but even that small movement has him exhausted, and his head slips back against the pillow, succumbing to darkness.   
…  
He cries out as he’s moved, everything in him hurting, and he slumps against the warmth he can feel beside him, realizing there’s an arm around his shoulders, carefully propping him up. 

“I’m sorry, love, I know, I know.” He feels a soft kiss to his head, and settles, feeling his consciousness fading yet again. 

“hey, hey, hey. Can you try and stay awake for me? You need to eat something, paloma.” 

He nods weakly, barely managing to open his mouth, expression shifting in surprise. It’s simple broth, but it tastes so good. It’s real food, actual food, and it has taste, salty and warm and savory, and he savors every spoonful, before exhaustion sets into his bones, and even opening his mouth takes too much energy. 

“a few more bites, paloma, can you manage just a few more?” he barely manages to shake his head, before he slips away.   
…  
Roman frowns, setting aside the bowl. He’d barely managed a quarter of the bowl, barely eight spoonfuls. His face is pale, gaunter than when he’d arrived, and he can feel the new fever already raging. The blisters and burns across his back have healed, Logan had carefully sewn closed the slash on his chest and the stab in his shoulder, which had also healed up nicely. 

Everything had been going well, it had only been a week, but he was improving so much, every day, staying awake for longer, talking for longer, getting some weight back as he ate more. But then everything went wrong. He started backsliding, all the progress slipping away, and it’s all because of those dark lines of infection. 

The problem is his wrists. It’s clear he had been chained or tied up nearly constantly, and they are open, weeping sores, that refuse to heal no matter what ointment or herbs Logan applies. The infection is only growing, the lines getting darker and deeper every day, climbing further up his body, and Roman is terrified at how weak Patton has become.

“please, paloma. Please stay.” He doesn’t know why he instantly fell in love with Patton, but he has already given him his entire heart, and it breaks at the thought of him perishing. It feels so right to hold him in his arms, to see every small smile, every lean closer, every happy sigh fills him with light, everything in him, his entire being, is pulled towards Patton, and he is in pain and hurting and he can’t do a thing to stop it. 

All that he knows is that his soul will shatter into a thousand shards if he loses his little dove, and he presses their foreheads together, heedless of the tears he feels slipping down his cheeks. 

He stays that way for a long while, unaware and uncaring of time passing, not moving even when he hears the curtain over the door sway, gentle footsteps approaching, the bed dipping slightly. 

“Roman.” Logan greets softly, and he takes a shuddering breath, finally pulling away, looking up with red rimmed eyes, utter defeat and exhaustion creased across his face, deadening his eyes. 

“he’s getting worse.” His voice is hoarse, broken, more tears streaming down his face. “he’s not going to get better, is he, Lo?” He asks, looking back down at Patton, who’s so deathly still, breath barely rattling in and out, pale as a corpse, except for his flushed face. He can see the dark lines of his veins, where the infection has spread up his arms, across his chest, creeping closer to his heart with every beat, the loose bandages around his wrists already darkening with crimson. 

“His odds of survival are… low. I’m sorry, Roman. I… I don’t know what else I can do.” Logan lets out a heavy breath, eyes flicking to Patton, before flicking away, settling on the floor as he stares off, lost in thought.

“you did your best, Lo. I know you did. It just… it feels like I’d been missing a piece of me without even knowing, and he… he completes me. He feels like coming home.” His voice is thick as he tries to swallow past the lump in his throat, a sob escaping him as he brushes back his hair, his paloma nuzzling against him, even now. “I don’t think I can live without him, logan. I really, really don’t.” He whispers, his heart already shattering. 

He hears a sharp inhale from the doorway, and looks up, the dark silhouette of Virgil frozen there, eyes wide, before he closes them, breathing in and out for a long moment. 

“How sure are you?” He asks, and Roman tilts his head in confusion. “how sure are you that you will die without him? How sure are you that you truly love him that much?” 

“positive. With all my heart and soul.” Virgil nods, not breaking his gaze with Roman, something unreadable and broken in them. 

“and how sure are you, that he loves you back? That… that if he had the freedom to leave, he would choose to stay?” 

“Where is this going, Virgil? Why are you asking me this?” Virgil closes his eyes for a long moment, and Roman is surprised to see a tear slipping down his face. Logan rises from the bed, going over and taking Virgil’s hands in his, a knowing look in his eye. 

“You don’t have to-“ 

“I do. He has to at least know. It’s his choice to make. His chance to risk. Like I did.” Roman’s eyes flit between the two, confused and baffled, a small spark of hope alighting in his chest. 

“what is it? There’s something, isn’t there? What haven’t you told me?” He demands, eagerness and a bit of heat tinting his tone. 

“It was for your own good we haven’t told you yet. You’re generally too prone to flights of fancy. But…” Logan trails off, looking to Virgil. 

“You can change him. You can turn him into one of us. A siren. It… it would heal him. And make him immortal, as we are.” He gasps, looking between the two, anger rising. 

“You’re just telling me this?! I could have saved him so much suffering, he doesn’t have to be almost dead right now, I could have fixed this the moment I found him, and you weren’t even going to tell me, were you, Logan? You were going to let me watch him die.” He accuses, and Logan simply looks away, guilt playing across his face.

“Roman. It’s not… it’s not that simple. I swear, if it were, I would have told you earlier. I would have let you do it. But there’s a price. There always is.” Virgil’s voice is bitter and heart sick, and he softens, instantly chastened. 

“what is it? What happened, Virgil?” He knew something had happened between Virgil and humans, something that made him hate the cruel ones, and fear even the normal ones, he always stayed the farthest from their ships when they sang, though his voice was the most biting and ferocious of the three of them, holding something personal, some deep rooted pain, some anger that flowered like a rose and wrapped thorns around your body. 

“I was in love. I thought… I thought he loved me, too. We spent days, together. Our own little cove, hidden away. I trusted him. He didn’t have a good home. I was reckless and foolish and young and stupid, and I told him, that I could change him. That we could stay together, go out to sea, together, live free, together. He was so happy, so excited, he said yes, of course, yes. So I did. I sang, and he changed, and he said he had to take a night, to get his affairs in order, to say his few goodbyes, and he would meet me at the cove in the morning.”   
Virgil closes his eyes trying to steady himself, sure he’s only staying upright because of Logan’s hand on his shoulder. “you can only do this once. And once you do, your heart and soul belong to whoever you changed. They will be the only one you can truly love for the rest of your days, and nothing can break that link. And if they choose to leave…” He takes a shaking breath, opening his eyes and letting Roman see the pain in them.   
“It hurts. With every moment, with every breath spent apart, it hurts. Like someone has ripped me in half, left me aching and hollow, always, constantly, forever, it will hurt in the most agonizing of ways, constantly reminding me of what I’m missing, who I’m missing, even though I want nothing else but to forget him. Even though I want to hate him, I do hate him, all I can do is wish for him, miss him, love him.   
So be sure. Be sure this human is worth it, be sure he will stay, because I can’t bear to watch you get torn apart, Roman. It would well and truly destroy you, and I can’t…” He shakes his head, swiping at his eyes, huffing at something Logan murmurs under his breath. “it’s your choice, Ro. I won’t stop you. Just keep in mind what the consequences will be.” Virgil pulls down his shirt, just a bit, and he gasps. 

Over his heart is a blackened scar, almost like vines curling into his chest. It’s just a moment, just a glimpse, then Logan has his arm around Virgil’s shoulders, supporting the siren against him, glancing back once at Roman with his unreadable stare, before leading Virgil out the door, hopefully to help calm him down. 

He looks down at Patton with a shaking sigh, carefully tucking a loose curl back behind his ear, hand shaking at how hot he is, like a burning furnace, and his touch lingers against his forehead. 

“ro…man?” He’s jolted from his far away thoughts at Patton’s voice, so small and weak and unsure. 

“I’m here, paloma. I’m here.” Patton’s eyes blink up at him, though they’re distant and hazy, glazed over with fever, nothing like the endless blue of mere days before. 

“s o-ok. ‘s ok to l-let me go. Y’don have ‘t s-ave me e-every t-ime.” He inhales sharply, more of a half sob as he takes Patton’s hand, so weak Patton’s fingers barely twitch in response when he squeezes it. 

“Patton…” 

“s been really n-nice, m-eeting you. Th-ank y-you. F-for ta-king ‘m home.” Then Patton’s hand goes limp in his, his eyes slipping closed, his chest barely moving, and Roman can feel his pulse, slowing, slowing… stopped… 

No.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan looks after Virgil.

Virgil closes his eyes, a ragged sob escaping him as Roman’s voice echoes over the island, piercing and keening and desperate, full of promise and hope and love, and it overwhelms him with pain. 

The only thing stopping him from crumbling apart, from throwing himself off a cliff at the terrible, beautiful song, is Logan’s arms tight around him, keeping him from tearing himself apart at the uncontrollable memories.   
…   
Golden hair, sharp canines, head thrown back laughing, catching the setting sun with his mismatched eyes, glowing golden and catching him, breathless. 

Soft hands tracing patterns against his scales, shivering as they lightly ghost over his fins, murmuring how stunning he is with every breath until he can’t help but kiss him. 

Laying on the beach, staring up at the stars, being taught the constellations, He had always been so clever. Always had an answer to his questions, always known just what to say. 

Talking. Of the past, the future, the now, and He frowns as he speaks of his home, of the streets, of avoiding the dangers from both, but he is even more brilliant for it, even more beautiful, he shines like the sun, and Virgil should have known, he should have known something that bright could only burn him in the end. 

A song. A song so much like the one echoing through the air now, high and hopeful and bursting with love, the light of the moon lighting up His face as he bit his lip against the pain, to keep from crying out as his being shifted and changed and turned, scales wrapping in golden bands around his upper arms, sparkling against his skin, his legs fusing into a beautiful, gilded masterpiece. 

And though they’re both sweating and exhausted, they grin, falling back on the sand as his tail shifts back to legs, as the final notes trail off, as they fall against each other, tangled limbs and searching mouths and fiery, burning heat. 

Then he left. 

He. 

Left.   
…   
He’s gasping, sobbing, limp in Logan’s hold as the final notes fade, hands clutching at anything he can reach, anything to keep him in the present, anything to distract him from the burning, icy, aching, nothingness that fills his chest as he folds against Logan. 

“please. Please let me go. Let me make it stop. Please.” Logan gathers him closer, pressing his head against Virgil’s hair, shaking his head. 

It hurts him to see Virgil like this. Almost as bad as when he first found him, drifting, half dead and heartsick, not even trying to hide, not even trying to avoid predators, just drifting out at sea. 

All Virgil had wanted to do then was die. He’d been so deeply, irrevocably wounded, part of him ripped away without any warning, and it very nearly killed him. He was barely responsive for the first four months after Logan had found him, taken him in. He would eat if food were presented, would swim if he was led, would walk if was stood, but otherwise he was unresponsive to questions, to voices, to the world. 

He was ever patient. He could see the scar over the siren’s chest, marking clear as day what had happened. He spoke to him, constantly, hoping his voice would help the siren come back to himself, hoped it would help him hang on. He was rewarded one day, unexpectedly, while he was cleaning the house, humming softly to himself. It had been so soft, at first, he hadn’t noticed, and once he did, he was afraid to stop, afraid to stop humming, afraid that the small, tremulous voice would vanish.

He tapered off, slowly turning to face the siren, who was sitting on the bed, knees pulled to his chest, bangs hiding his eyes. Carefully, he approached. 

“hello. My name is Logan.” He said softly, coming to sit at the very edge of the bed, as far from the other siren as possible, who seemed to need the space. 

“virgil.” Was the whispered response, voice small and shaking and shattered in a way that made his heart ache. Truly, he hadn’t expected any response, was cautiously optimistic that Virgil would pull through. A loss like this often killed the sirens who had experienced them. 

“Virgil. You are welcome to stay as long as you wish. This island is well hidden and magically warded. No humans can find it.” Something hardens in Virgil’s face at the mention of humans, before it crumbles, and he hides his head against his knees. 

“I was so stupid. How… how could I have thought… why would anyone ever have loved me?” Virgil is crying, and Logan shifts closer, surprised as the siren instantly takes his invitation, curling against his side. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around the poor thing, feeling his protective instincts flare to life.   
…  
He kisses the top of Virgil’s head, feeling him trembling from exhaustion in his arms, feeling his tears tapering off, leaving him no doubt numb and broken. 

“it’s alright, virg. I know. But I’m not letting you go, stormy. You can make it through.” 

“He’ll break him. What if he breaks him? He won’t survive it, Lo, we both know he won’t.” He whispers weakly, numb tears slipping down his face. “He’s so sure, and I want to believe him, but I was so sure, Lo, so sure, and I was wrong…” he gasps out, feeling sorrow cresting over him again. 

“I know. But you did the right thing, Virgil. He had all the information, he knew all the risks, and he made his choice. The only thing we can do now is support him, no matter what happens.” Virgil burrows deeper against him, still trembling. “you need to sleep.” He murmurs, gently rocking Virgil, knowing that motion soothes him. 

“stay. I don’t… I don’t want to dream. I don’t want to dream of Him. I don’t… I don’t want to remember.” 

“Of course. Now go to sleep.” He murmurs, rubbing Virgil’s arms, watching him uneasily drift off, humming a soft, steady note, to keep his dreams free of any turbulence.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end, for now. I have a couple vague ideas where this could go, so I'm sure I'll get back to it eventually!

The first thing he knows is he’s tired. Bone deep aching tired. And his whole body is sore, in a vague, distant kind of way. He hears the humming next, and furrows his brow, trying to place it, trying to remember that voice drifting through his dreams. He feels someone stroking his hair, a hand in his, warmth around him, and he squeezes his eyes, trying to force them to open, succeeding after a long moment of struggle, taking in a deep, gasping breath, what feels like his first one in years, nearly choking on the air, devolving into a coughing fit. 

He feels the warmth shift, and suddenly he’s moving, and he clings to the warmth harder as the world spins, then resettles, and he drinks as a cup is held to his lips, blinking his vision clear. 

“roman?” Instantly, Roman’s lips are on his and he melts against him, pressing close until there is no space between their bodies, until he can’t tell who’s heartbeat is whose, until the only thing in the world is Roman’s hands raking through his hair, his arms wrapped around Roman’s waist, brilliant colors exploding behind his eyelids. 

“paloma, mi paloma, mi Patton.” Roman murmurs against his lips, accenting each one with another deep kiss, stealing his breath away all over again, until they finally part for air, keeping their foreheads pressed together, breath ragged as they try and fill their lungs. Roman’s hands cup his cheeks, wiping away tears he didn’t even know he was crying. “I love you, I will always love you, I want nothing more than to shower you in love forever.” 

“roman… what… what did you do?” He whispers, pulling back, stopping as he catches a flash of blue on his wrist. His breath catches as he extends his arms, tracing the swirling patter of sky blue scales, that run from his wrists to his shoulders, just like Roman’s. His eyes are wide as he meets Roman’s once more, words caught in his throat. 

“It was the only way to save you. I… we’re linked, now.” Roman pulls down his shirt, and Patton gasps. A barely glowing light blue sigil is imprinted over Roman’s heart. He finds the same sigil, a soft scarlet, on his own chest. “You can leave, of course. I won’t keep you here. It just… I needed to do something. I needed you to live. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not asking you, for changing you, dbut there wasn’t any time.” Something fuzzy in his mind surfaces, Virgil’s voice. 

“it would hurt you. If I left, it would hurt you, wouldn’t it?” Roman looks away, only answering at Patton’s stern look. 

“yes. But I don’t care! I don’t care how much it hurts, I just want you to be happy, and living your life, and I won’t keep you here for my sake, just because I… I love you, doesn’t mean you need to stay for me. Doesn’t mean you need to love me back.” He yelps as Patton tackles him into a hug, clinging to him like a koala, arms wrapped around his neck, and he instinctively cradles Patton’s head against him, rubbing his back. 

“I’m not mad, you idiot, I love you. I love you, Roman, I love you, I never want to leave, I never want to leave you, I want to stay here forever, I want to stay with you, forever.” Patton sobs against him, laughing happily, breathless, and Roman can’t help the silly, splitting grin across his face, joy rushing through him. 

Patton yelps as Roman lifts him off the bed, spinning with him in his arms, before setting him down on his feet, hands holding him steady against his waist, grinning down at him, light fizzing in his chest at Patton’s happy giggles, at Patton standing on tiptoe to reach his lips, catching him in a perfect kiss. 

“I love you, roman. You… you are my home.” Patton whispers, and he lets out a small, happy laugh. 

“You are my everything, paloma. Everything.” Roman murmurs back, bumping their noses together playfully once, before slipping his hand into Patton’s. 

“Come on, darling. Let’s get those scales wet. Oh, your tail is going to be a wonder.” He says, Patton smiling up at him so brightly he thinks he might explode from the warmth in his chest. “And your voice… it’s already the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard, but your song will be magnificent.” He murmurs, pulling Patton close once more, planting a kiss on his forehead, before grinning at his charming blush, pulling him out the door, racing, giggling, down to the beach. 

He dives into the water without a second thought, pulling Patton tumbling in behind him, keeping a steady hold of his shoulders as he gasps, spluttering, panicking for a moment before his new gills kick into action, and he inhales a breath of water without suffocating. 

His legs tingle strangely, and when he looks down, he gasps again, eyes wide as he stares at his shimmering, glimmering tail, the same color as the scales on his arms, with accents of soft gray and sparkling silver. Roman grins, swirling around him, before grabbing his hand and pulling him close, brushing their lips together for a brief moment, too giddy to stay still for long. 

Patton giggles as he pulls him onwards, showing him how to use his tail, to keep him from flying out of control, before he moves on to tricks, flips, dives, twirls, spins, until they’re both laughing and dizzy and exhausted, tumbling over each other in the water, racing each other back to shore, Patton losing because he gets distracted by every marine creature he sees, Roman laughing fondly as the new siren spends nearly an hour shadowing a sea turtle before he can coax him away. 

Finally, as the sun is setting, they sit on the rocky shore, tails draped over the rocks and dangling into the water, still captivating Patton with their shine, Roman coaxes him to sing. 

He lets out one soft, unsure, warbling, note, before slapping a hand over his mouth at the amount of power that simple note contained. The feeling of magic in his throat, ready to erupt, deadly and cold and he’s afraid of it, instantly. Afraid of himself. 

“It’s ok, paloma.” He murmurs, taking Patton’s hand in his. 

“it’s so big.” Comes his small response, and Roman smiles, looking up at the soft orange and pinks spreading across the sky. 

“yes. But you can learn to control it. It takes time. It will get away from you and spiral off into its own chorus, but it is yours, Patton. No one here will be harmed by it, if you lose control. Just let it sing itself out, and start again. Just… sing.” He replies softly, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, letting his mind settle as he opens his mouth. 

Virgil stills and Logan smiles, as two voices ring out across the island. One is loud and boisterous, vibrant and bright. The other is small, unsure, of who it is yet, but it warbles like a song bird, a bit steadier, a bit louder, as the minutes pass by. They weave around each other in perfect melodies, in harmonious dichotomies, playing and growing and twisting off each other in the most mesmerizing and least expected of ways. 

Then Virgil lets out a long, deep breath, releasing all the tension in his body along with his exhale, soft tears dripping down his face at the beautiful, wonderous music. The kind he’d once dreamed of making. He leans into the touch, as Logan rests a hand on his shoulder, letting out a small, soft smile as he looks up at the taller siren’s eyes. 

“he’s going to stay.” Is all he says, and Logan smiles back fondly, looking towards the door, listening once more to the sweet sounds drifting through the air. 

“So it seems.” He replies, wrapping his arms around Virgil, swaying gently with him to the music, chuckling as Virgil buries his head against his chest, letting himself slump against Logan, relief radiating off the smaller siren in waves. 

Roman and Patton fall asleep, entwined together on the shore after singing till nearly sunrise, and Virgil huffs when he finds them, rolling his eyes, but grinning despite himself. They really are simply adorable, Patton curled against Roman, who practically encases him with his being. 

His own heart stings, just a little, seeing them there, together, happy, perfect. But he brushes it away. He doesn’t need a human to love. He just needs his family to be safe and happy, and right now, everything is perfect.


End file.
